Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Dec 24, 2015 4:21:11 GMT
Open to Wern Today felt like a good day to go out and have a drink, but only one. Just to see how the common folk are fairing given this time of war. It was what everyone talked about but also what no one talked about. A sore topic for most, a topic worth ranting about for others. Either way, everyone had an opinion on it. And that opinion tended to come out when people had a few drinks.
Lasair was surprised when he saw a familiar face already at the bar, drinking like the world was ending. That didn’t seem like the mechanic, what was his name, Vern? Vern had been really timid the first time the ander saw him in a bar. Curious, Lasair sat down next to him and ordered a scotch. “What’s troubling you?” he asked once his drink arrived.
The liquid had gotten nicer by the fifth shot. A commission from the past had given him an extra tip, which meant more money for booze. Though, not in the beginning. No. Is started as a trip to pick up something from the hovel, a part he wanted to get, but that’s when he saw the wreckage. A little girl, digging up rubble, crying Momma over and over. Kind of annoying, but he was concerned. Had moved to help, but an older block had pulled him aside and said “She’s been there for days” Apparently the mother was somewhere dead under the rubble. But the girl never stopped looking, never stopped to think, oh she’s dead, I should stop. Nope. So she just kept on digging, kept on going, like the drinks. But at least the drinks ended in a happy ending, yes sir. At least, until a somewhat familiar face appeared. Asked him his troubles, and Wern grunted, turned away. He couldn’t place why he remembered him, or why he should even. He saw him oh yes, at a bar. The guy who gave him a drink. Started this whole thing. Except that wasn’t true. But the blame sounded nice right then. Wern waved him off. “Nuttin's wrong. Just drinkin.”
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Dec 24, 2015 4:42:34 GMT
He raised an eyebrow to the man, nodding while going back to sipping his drink. “Then why the long face? You’re drinking your beverage not just with your mouth, but with your eyes too. That says to me something’s on your mind.” But if the man didn’t want to walk, Lasair wouldn’t push him to. Some people needed a push to talk about their problems, some didn’t. And some of those who needed a push, needed a big push. Now the question was: what kind of push would Vern need?
Glancing at the other, Wern scowled. His eyes? Was the man making fun of him? And long face? That was a fat joke he ever did hear one. That, or a horse at a bar one. “Ever heard of not judging a book by their cover?” Wern groggily asked, ushering for the barkeep to bring out another round. “And why you here? Lasso? Lassy? Lasa?” Wern trailed, squinting at the other.
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Dec 24, 2015 5:13:55 GMT
“No reason.” So Vern didn’t want to chat, hmm. Might be better to give him some room, some silence to fill. So Lasair shrugged the shoulder nearer to the man and picked up his scotch, swirling it around in his hand over and over. He watched the liquid twirl over itself again and again. It was soothing, especially the way it lapped around the ice cube in his glass. There was something nice about scotch, he decided. Something other drinks really didn’t have. Lifting it to his mouth, he took another sip before setting it back down, glancing towards the other as he did so. What did this man have that other didn’t?
A shoulder nudge was quite a push for Wern in his present state. He looked at the other. At how calm he was. How calm everyone in this bloody city was. There was a war going on, by Cogs. Literally, outside of their homes. Bombarding, killing people left and right. And he was calm? Wern glared at him. Shook his head. “That’s what I hate about this bloody city. With your indifference. By cogs, one child dies, and the world is broken back home, but here?” Wern pushed the glasses away, luckily, they didn’t fall to the ground, but merely, toppled over, rolling to the side. “Bloody indifference. For goodness sake, heartless bastards, all of you.”
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Dec 24, 2015 5:45:04 GMT
“How many people?” he asked bluntly, before realizing he’d need to specify, especially with how drunk the man next to him smelled. “In Burtin, I mean. How many people live in that town? A hundred, maybe two?” He gave the other a moment to process what he said before continuing. “With a community that small, a child dying is a town-wide tragedy. But here in Lodan? We have several thousand citizens; it’s impossible to know them all personally. One person dies. His family mourns the lost. Maybe his friends too. But anyone besides that? It’s no concern to him.”
He set his drink down, sighing. “I’m not saying it’s right, but that’s the way it is. And the sooner you realize that, the less pain you’ll be in.”
Contemplating the question, he spurted out a “Hundred. Probably less. Especially with the rate floozies have babies.” Scrunching his face, Wern listened to what Lasair said, only partially caring, perhaps even less than that, to be honest. “The less pain I’ll be in?” Wern laughed at that. “I’m dumb. I know it. I know it’s obvious. Everyone f***ing knows it.” Rubbing a hand across his face, he tried to pick up the glasses with the other one, but had no luck succeeding at that either. Why did he even bother? “Accepting it doesn’t help. Hell, nothing helps. Not even booze. Not even F***ers like you. I’ll wake up, feeling even worse, and it won’t stop. Cause I can’t do drat about it. Cause that’s the bloody >way it is<, right?” Drinking the last of the shot, he slammed it down, nearly breaking it. At that, the barkeeper yelled at them, told them to keep it down, that anymore and he’ll kick them out. What else was new? “How’s that working out for you, buddy?”
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Dec 24, 2015 5:55:37 GMT
When Vern finished his outburst, Lasair finished his own drink, gesturing to the barkeep for another. A second wouldn’t hurt. “If the booze doesn’t help then why do you piss your money away on it?” he asked, still holding a level tone. “I’ll tell you why, because I’ve been in the same boat as you: cuz it helps dull things away. But dulling the pain doesn’t make it go away.” He took a sip from his new drink, still opting not to face the drunk man as he spoke. “You know what’ll actually help? Doing something about it. Not talking, not looking, and certainly not avoiding. Action will make you feel better. Not this. The heavy drinking never worked out for me. I doubt it’ll help you much either.” Let the man be angry, let him get kicked out. He needed to get it out of his system. He needed to hear the truth.
Listening, Wern held back a snicker. But the laugh continued to bloom from him. He looked toward the other, at all of them, then smiled a smile he hope screamed ‘you hypocrite’. “Doing something doesn’t do nuthin. I’ve done plenty. Helped. Donated. Took folks in. Even hung my own noose.” At that, Wern laughed at the memory, at how he had kept a noose ready, right above the stairs. Had gotten a stool and everything, but then figured, no, too messy. Pills were better. But getting a lethal dose for someone of his weight? That apparently took time, and it seemed that doctor’s in Lodan knew their stuff, and what not to give to drunk men looking for an easy way out, because that is what it was, wasn’t it? An easy way out of this d**ned place. “But you know, it does nothing, just like you said. No one in this bloody place cares. Maybe one or two, but really, who cares? That’s why I drink buddy. Helping me mighty fine, if you ask me. More so then your bloody sod. How’s that charisma working out for ya? Hmmm, doing mighty fine huh?” Oh yeah, he really remembered the bloke now. All smiles. All laughter. Just like Abigial. Just like f**king Abigail, before she violated him, cause that was what it was, wasn’t it? No more avoiding, just like the flame hair said. But action will make you feel better, won’t it? Action made him confront her— to ask for forgiveness but she just sang “I’m not the victim, am I?” Cause he was dumb. He was foolish. But the drink helped him with that. Apparently it hadn’t the other fellow. “Maybe you just need stronger liquor.”
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Dec 24, 2015 6:30:25 GMT
This man was hurting more than Lasair had first thought. Now he turned towards him, looking at him closely, studying his face. “Doesn’t look like it’s helping you.” He set his drink down slowly, no longer wishing to finish it. A waste of money, sure. But he wanted his mind to be as clear as possible from now on. “If doing those things didn’t help, then you weren’t doing the right things. You work with machines, don’t you? Why not go out and work on some tech to help with the war. Develop weapons to combat the ones our enemies have. I would, if I could. But I can’t. But that doesn’t stop me from caring, from trying. I look indifferent, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I am. I just have enough decency not to let my problems show. I’d rather be someone to lean on instead of breaking down myself.” He paused for a moment, taking a breath. This man had found his want under the ander’s skin and Lasair wanted him out. “You don’t even want my help, and here I was just trying to check in with a friend who seemed upset. Well fine, have it your way. If you’re going to keep pushing me away then consider me gone.” Standing up, he turned towards the door and began walking towards it.
Thinking for a moment, Wern thought about it. Was more fighting really the answer? Was Amon right about the thought? Making more weapons to help kill people would help save more lives? Hell, what did it all mean then? Wouldn’t that add more to the bloody cycle? But the other was getting up. Mentioned something about friends— they were friends? Since when? They had only met once, no twice, yet he said they were friends? “Did you really mean that?” Wern asked, not bothering to get up, but instead, looking at the now empty seat. “About us being friends?”
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Dec 24, 2015 6:54:49 GMT
Lasair stopped in his tracks, turning around slowly and crossing his arms as he looked at the other. “Yeah. You’re a nice guy. I wouldn’t mind getting to know you more. Just not like this. Not with you ready to piss YOUR life away because OTHER people are dying.” Turning back around, he continued his walk to the door. If Vern wanted to keep talking to him, he’d have to drag his arse out of the bar and follow him. Lasair didn’t want to keep chatting in a place that wasn’t helping either of the men’s problems.
Cocking his head, Wern listened. Hiccuped, then looked at the booze in his hand, sloshed it around, then scavenged in his pocket for some coins, only to toss them onto the counter. He did not even wait to let the other guy count to see if the amount was right— he just sloppily followed Lasair out, succeeding in nearly falling onto his face more so then walking. But still, he managed to follow the other. “Well hold on their partner. I’m not nice. If I was nice.” Leaning against the wall, Wern tried to stand. “How would you even know? We only met twice.”
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Dec 24, 2015 7:25:07 GMT
“Three times now, actually,” he corrected with the raise of an eyebrow. So he’d actually gotten through to the man. At least, enough to make him abandon the bottle. “And I’ve met people who aren’t nice. They make sure I know that in the first meeting, if not then the second. This is the third and you haven’t done anything mean other than tell me I’m wrong.” Lasair allowed himself a small smile towards the man, but only a small one. The other was still rather tipsy, it’d probably be best if he got home. And also if he took down that noose he mentioned. Right, new goal: get Vern home.
"All you need is love." -John Lennon
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